


The Tragedy That Is High School

by noahcomemidnight



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Chaos, Character Development, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Developing Friendships, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Oh My God, POV Steve Rogers, Partying, Past Character Death, Personal Growth, Please Don't Hate Me, Prince T'Challa (Marvel), Protective Pepper Potts, References to Drugs, Romance, SHIELD, Sam Wilson is a Gift, School Reunion, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, hhh - Freeform, hydra scum, leave bucky alone, upsetti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-04-08 03:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahcomemidnight/pseuds/noahcomemidnight
Summary: Steve is in his senior year of high school when he realises that something is a bit off... Bucky isn't at school this year.High school AU wherein Steve is no longer scrawny, Bucky is a mess, and there's a lot of people in cahoots with one another about something that Steve has yet to figure out.Imagine everyone looks the same, but like younger in the face. Follows the events of all Marvel movies leading up to Civil War and Black Panther.this is for my pal, my buddy, my bucky *blows kiss to the sky* i lov you spicy salad





	1. (Enter STEVE)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spicy Salad](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Spicy+Salad).



> I've also posted this story upon my fanfic.net, so if you think you've read it before, you're not going crazy I promise.

Yes, the rumours were true-- he’d made the soccer team.

It had come as a surprise, given Steve was the scrawniest, lankiest kid in the school. Soccer season of junior year, Steve was a sub, sitting on the bench most games, waiting for someone to get injured so that he’d have some sort of shot at being in a game. It didn’t happen. Steve was determined to do  _ something _ , though.

The summer before senior year, Steve struggled to get into shape, but slowly built up muscle at his job in the local bakery. Hauling sack of flour and moving entire glass cases kept him busy, and made him enough money to get a car-- an old 1950’s style Ford of a light blue colour with chrome rims. He loved the car and spent the summer keeping it looking good as the heat wore away and the impending doom of senior year approached. Steve had dropped soccer in order to make room for his various studies, but did find himself visiting the soccer tryouts for the new school year at the end of July. It was a bittersweet feeling as he realised that the team would be fine without him, if not better off.

Upon returning to school as a senior this year, he felt like something was off, but didn’t realise what, until seeing the faded stickers on the locker next to his. Locker 69420 used to have a team lacrosse magnet reading ‘Barnes’ on it, but instead of it being there, it was a discoloured spot that was brighter than the rest of the locker. Steve was good friends with Bucky Barnes, and wondered if he’d quit the team. He would have asked, but Bucky wasn’t in any of his classes, which was a first in years.

Steve figured he could ask Bucky when he saw him next, which would be at a small music festival that weekend. Every year he and Bucky went together and enjoyed the groups that came to the music midtown madness. God, Steve couldn’t wait to see Bucky and ask him about the whole lacrosse situation.

“Rogers?”

Steve turned at the familiar drawl at none other than the richest guy in town, Tony Stark (or ‘Tony Stank’ as one kid had dubbed him last year). He could only wonder what Stark wanted now, and set his jaw as he waited for the harassment to slip past that mouth that was able to fit a whole fucking silver shovel in it.

“What do you want, Stark?” Steve crossed his arms, and Tony looked him up and down, his jaw falling slack, before he shook his head, as if trying to shake thoughts from his brain. 

“Y-You, I-- uh…” Stark scowled suddenly sowled and glared at him, before muttering a soft, ‘dipshit’ and walking away.

Steve could only raise a brow in response, to which one of the members of Stark’s entourage, Pepper Potts, stopped and patted his shoulder in a sympathetic notion.

“He just doesn’t know what to do now that you’re hot, Steve.” Pepper stage-whispered to him, and offered him a small smile before returning to Stark’s side.

Steve found it hard to comprehend. He thought Stark was a thing with Pepper, but he supposed he must have been misinformed. Steve wasn’t exactly on the uppermost rung of the social hierarchy, and thus when news of the aristocracy trickled down to him, it was mostly diluted and filled with rumours. Steve didn’t really care about the drama or the aristocracy that Stark led in the school, but learning that Stark thought that he was good looking? Like, romantically? God, Stark was shallow if he was basing everything on Steve’s looks alone, especially since in years’ past, he’d gone to all lengths possible to pretend like Steve didn’t exist.

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, Bucky texted him to tell him that he was unable to attend the music midtown festival this year due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’.

So all in all? The first day of senior year sucked.

It could only go up from here, right?

  
  



	2. (Enter HYDRA)

Okay, so it could get a lot worse.

Steve was moping about on Saturday, walking from home to run the track lining the local park’s football field. Exercise was known to boost dopamine and get you out of a bad mood, so he should do the same thing, right? Moping about the last-minute cancellation of the music midtown festival wasn’t a big deal or anything. It wasn’t like they’d been going together every year since middle school, right? 

Okay, Steve was a little bit upset.

But to be fair, this was their thing! They always kicked off the school year with the music festival. Steve shook his head and made the hike up the last hill, before realising that something might have happened to Bucky, which led to his cancellation. What if he’d broken his foot? What if his foster mother had died? What if--

Steve’s thoughts were cut short when he realised that the football field was already occupied by  maroon and black jerseys and lacrosse sticks. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slowly made his way down to the field, before sitting in the stands. He watched as the swarm of lacrosse players began playing against each other, simulating an actual game. The maroon and black jerseys and the helmets with the skull and tentacles made Steve sigh again, because of course the rival team to his school was practicing at six forty five in the morning.

Hydrangea Grange High School sounded like the kind of school for girls to learn wifely duties in the 1950s, but oh how wrong it was. Hydrangea Grange was better known as Hydra, the brutally unforgiving school that rivalled Steve’s, and would use any means possible to achieve their goal. Steve’s high school was one of the three others in the county, but Hydra always had their eyes set on defeating his school. Southern Harris Institute of English, Linguistics, and Dramatic Arts was better known for their academics, and better known by the acronym S.H.I.E.L.D (the ‘A’ was dropped because it wasn’t appealing to the student body). Sports often overshadowed the academic achievements, especially on Thursday (for Soccer), Friday (for Football), and Saturday (for Lacrosse) nights. Steve had once watched from the sidelines as his soccer team was destroyed by Hydra’s, and even saw as the referee was making shitty calls and pulling several yellow and red cards on their team. Rumour had even been that Hydra would pay off the referees to give them the upper hand, and subsequently, the win.

“Hey! This is a private practice!”

Steve blinked and noticed some guy with a scar on his face taking two bleacher steps as he approached. The guy crossed his arms as he stood above Steve, his dark eyes cold and his mouth pulled down into a scowl. Steve stood, eye level with the guy, and held his hands up in defense.

“I was just waiting to use the track.”

“We’re using the field all day, but nice try. Now, beat it, kid.” The guy sneered as he looked at Steve’s black tee shirt with cerulian letters that read ‘S.H.I.E.L.D SOCCER-- fight hard or die trying’.

Steve held his ground. He wasn’t going to let some Hydra lacrosse player push him around, especially based on school rivalry. Besides that, he was done with people in general pushing him around and taking advantage of him. Steve not moving caused the Hydra guy snarl, before more footsteps stomping on the bleachers caused them to look at another lacrosse player approaching. The other guy was still wearing his helmet, and shoved the helmet in his hands at the guy who’d been telling Steve to move. The guy with the scar on his face had his back turned and read the name ‘Rumlow’ across the back of his jersey.

“Back on the field.” The other Hydra guy’s voice was soft and distorted through both his mouthpiece and helmet. The guy with the helmet on proceeded to turn toward Steve, before poking at his chest and pointing for him to leave.

“I already tried.”

The other Hydra lacrosse player pulled off his helmet and Steve blinked for a moment. The guy had long, shaggy hair pulled back into a ponytail and stubble lining his jaw. His icy blue eyes were hardened with disgust, and again, he pointed for Steve to leave. The second time it almost completely went over his head, because this is what Bucky cancelled their music midtown weekend for? More questions nagged at him, including the main, ‘why the hell is Bucky with Hydra--???’.

“Buck?” Steve managed, the name slipping past his lips as he blinked in shock. “B-Bucky?”

“Who the hell is ‘Bucky’?” Bucky growled, and Steve gathered himself to leave, watching as the jerseys reading ‘Rumlow’ and ‘Barnes’ grew smaller as they returned to the field, seemingly mocking him.


	3. (Enter STARK + SAM, Talking About Relationships)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hints of Stony, and also Internalised Homophobia. Also, in case you didn't know, Steve Rogers is of Jewish + Christian religions in this fic.

Upon returning to school on Monday, Steve was in a less than pleasant mood. After what had happened on Saturday, he’d wanted nothing more to shake Bucky and try and rid him of whatever brainwashing Hydra had done to him. Monday morning was made even worse when Steve was minding his own business, reading and eating breakfast in the library, when he saw someone sit in the chair across from him. Steve glanced up from Orwell’s ‘1984’ to find none other than Tony Stark propping his feet up on the table as he leaned his chair back.

“Morning, Rogers.”

Steve looked back to his book, wondering how the hell Stark had found him, especially since he was sitting at the table in the furthest corner in the library.

“What do you want, Stark?”

“Is that all you know how to say to me? Because I get being starstruck by someone as successful as me, but that’s a bit rude.”

“‘Rogers’ is all you call me, and it’s rather dispersonal and a bit rude.” Steve shot back, and he saw Stark nearly fall out of his chair at his response. He sat his chair back on all four of its feet and sat correctly in it, clasping his hands as he leaned forward on the table.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Stark took a deep breath and sighed, “Good morning, Steve.”

“What do you want, Tony?”

He hid his smile as he could practically see Stark fuming. A scowl was drawn on those dark lips, and he threw back the chair and stormed out of the library. Steve let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, and relaxed back into the solidarity he craved.

The day dragged on without much disruption. He was left alone for the most part, besides being put into a group with Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, and Phil Coulson to work on a lab with blood in forensics. Natasha tried to take actual blood from Clint, who shrugged, while Phil was yelling at them both that the blood in the lab wasn’t real, and that this was inhumane. Steve kept mostly to himself, smiling a few times as he watched everything go down, including Phil stealing glances at him at every possible opportunity. Steve wondered if there was any particular reason why Phil kept looking at him, but shrugged it off, because he was probably wondering who this weirdo was.

Come lunchtime, Steve was perched in his spot in the library, before being joined by Sam Wilson, a friend of his since middle school. Sam set his lunch down and slid in the seat next to Steve, beginning to pick at the nacho dish that had been on the menu today.

“He’s with Hydra?” Sam inquired casually, and Steve raised a brow, about to ask him how he knew, before Sam held up a hand to silence him, smiling as he spoke again, “I know you, Steve. Not to mention, you were pacing earlier and muttering ‘Hydra’ under your breath.”

“But  _ why _ ?”

“Hydra does have a lacrosse program that’s the best in the state.”

“But I-- When I spoke to him, he said, ‘who the hell is Bucky?’. Sam! Buck and I have been friends since--”

“Since Kindergarten, I know.” Sam nodded solemnly, before shoving a large tortilla chip dripping with cheese, tomatoes, beans, and rice into his mouth. Licking his fingers and speaking in a muffled voice. “Have you tried texting him or asking him what’s up? Maybe he’s trying to push you away because he knows you’ll take it badly.”

“I haven’t tried anything yet because I don’t want to seem too aggressive…”

“‘Too aggressive’? You’re best friends, he should understand your concern.”

Steve nodded, pulling a bag of carrots out of his bag and beginning to munch on them. Sam leaned on the table, hands clasped seriously.

“Look, Steve, I understand that you’re best friends, but you won’t always be by each others’ sides forever. I mean, what about college? And dating?”

Steve could only nod glumly. Sam was right. His childish insistence that he and Bucky would always be together was not the reality of the world, and he could no longer fool himself. Bucky wanted to pursue lacrosse and he was getting the best training with Hydra, but he still brushed Steve off like he hadn’t known him for more than a decade? Dick move. But Bucky always did have Steve’s best interests in mind and usually tried to break bad news to him softly, so maybe this distancing between them was what they needed. It was what mature adults did, and Steve figured that this was the best way to handle the situation.

“Anyhow,” Sam polished off his nachos and reached for one of those stupid Little Debbie Cosmic Brownies that he’d gotten from the cafeteria, “You need to find yourself a woman and settle down for a bit. Ask her to homecoming and then later prom. Then leave her behind as one of the last good memories from high school.”

Steve let out a snort and shook his head. Sam also cracked a small smile as he bit into his diabetes-ridden desert, that, in Steve’s opinion, wasn’t even that good.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly looking for a relationship. You remember what happened with Sharon over the course over the month that we were together?”

“Yeah, but you’ve grown, man. You’ve matured, and you’re not exactly the scrawniest kid in school anymore.” Sam chuckled and playfully punched Steve’s shoulder. “Give it one more try. Maybe this year you can get someone like Romanov, or--”

“Natasha is a nice woman, but I would never-- I could never--”

“You’ve gotta find someone. Consider me your wingman.”

“You’ve always been my wingman, Sam, even with your college obsession.”

“Hey, back off. Fenthurst Falcons are my school, and always have been since I was little.”

“So that’s why everyone just calls you ‘Falcon’ then?”

“Yeah, well now I truly am.” Sam grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he spoke. “I was accepted.”

Steve felt his heart swell with pride, and he clapped Sam on the back.

“I-- That’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“Thanks, man.” Sam let out a laugh, before the smile completely vanished from his face and he pointed a finger at Steve. “But don’t distract me from the fact that I  _ will _ find you someone.”

Steve rolled his eyes and pulled a small KitKat from his bag. He unwrapped it and didn’t bother to break it apart as he took a bite out of it. He felt like an absolute heathen, but with no Bucky with which to share the other stick of chocolate and wafer, then what was the point of breaking it apart? Speaking of heathens…

“Yeah, well, I was informed by Miss Pepper Potts that Tony Stark is apparently trying to seek my affections.”

“He  _ what _ ?!” Sam almost choked on his stupid brownie. “He swings that way? D-Do you swing that way?”

“I could never swing that way.” Steve shook his head, his stomach churning as he remembered the good Jewish-Christian household he was raised in before his mother died.

“I don’t mind if you do swing that way, but Stark? God, I had no idea!” Sam shook his head incredulously. “The more I think about it, though, the more it makes sense. He was acting very buddy-buddy with Banner last year…”

Steve unconsciously shivered. He didn’t know what it was, but the idea of a man with another man? Maybe it was because of his upbringing, but it sent a weird feeling to the pit of his stomach. His mind always seemed to scream, ‘ _ this is wrong _ ’, but it was so indescribable and Steve just couldn’t help but stare in wonderment. His mother had always told him that they would burn in hell, but it was almost traumatizing and Steve just couldn’t look away.

“--Get if you swing that way, because not gonna lie, T’Challa is a work of art, but--”

“You’re gay?” Steve abruptly interrupted the ramblings of Sam, who shrugged.

“Probably not, but like I said, T’Challa would be some sort of exception.”

Steve didn’t know how to feel about T’Challa. He didn’t like Bucky, probably because the lacrosse team and the cross-country team for some reason never got along. They always started fights, and T’Challa took notice to the fact that Steve supported Bucky, and didn’t take it lightly. The guy had even gone as far to use the mocking name ‘Captain’ that Steve had been given by his soccer team, because he always sat on the bench and was of no use other than moral support. Besides that, Steve never really interacted with the Wakandan native or his sister, so he couldn’t really judge. He was striking though with his dark skin and features, and when he spoke, it was always low and accented, sounding more like a purr, as if he were some sort of cat…

“I dunno… I don’t really see it.” Steve muttered, trying not to let his upbringings or prior life events inhibit his friend’s potential explanation or completely destroy his personal views.

“I mean, he’s strong and independent, he’s got a great voice. And that accent? Like  _ velvet _ . He’s very democratic and even nice if he wants to be. I dunno. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe because he winked at me or someone in my general direction the other day, and I can’t stop thinking about it…”

Steve felt the nausea return to his stomach. This wasn’t right, what Sam was thinking about T’Challa, but he felt obligated to be supportive-- this was one of his good friends. At the same time, however, Sam hadn’t been in a serious relationship in  _ ever _ , and this was someone he was speaking fondly of. Before he could stop himself, however, he found his mouth moving.

“Go for it. You’ve been my wingman for so long, now it’s only fair I return the favour.”

Steve cringed at his own words, wondering why the hell he’d even opened his mouth to begin with.

“Thanks Steve, but he’s already with some girl.” Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, I’m going to be too busy helping your love life to have one of my own.”

Steve exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Steve wasn’t super religious, but this was some sort of divine intervention, and he silently thanked God and any other deity that may or may not exist. He didn’t want to doom Sam with the harassment of others or the fate he had of burning in hell in the afterlife for the rest of eternity.

Before either of them could continue the conversation, the bell rang indicating that lunch was over, and that they needed to start heading to their fifth period. They bid each other adieu for the time being and headed in opposite directions, Sam heading to calculus and Steve pushing his way through the throngs of people down the stairs to the art room. Steve technically didn’t have a class this period, but what was the point of leaving school only to come back? 

Steve entered the empty room, grabbing his canvas from the drying rack from where he’d begun to block in shapes just a few hours earlier when he’d actually had art for second period. He found where he’d stashed his acrylic paints, before setting up his easel and work space. He was thankful he’d left the coffee maker on from earlier, as it already had hot water waiting for him to pour into his mug with a teabag. Steve set to work, using a palette knife to add further dimension to the colours he’d blocked in. He mixed white, red, and a hint of orange to create a pastel peach colour that he could use for the highlights of the face…

Enthralled in his own world, Steve almost missed the bell signal for fifth period to end. He gathered his items and tried his best to clean up his cluttered workstation, before grabbing his things and heading to his government class. As he travelled to the other side of the school, he wondered how many of these peoples’ faces he would miss seeing. It sounded rather odd, but even the people he didn’t know, he was used to seeing them over the four years he’d been at S.H.I.E.L.D. Moving off to college meant probably never seeing any of their faces again, faces that had become familiar and a monotonous sight in his daily routine. Steve wasn’t sure what he would do without those who made up the student body of S.H.I.E.L.D, and he tried not to think about it too much, before realising that he already knew what would happen, because it was happening currently with the absence of Bucky. It was a gaping hole of cold unfamiliarity, and that’s what he would be submerged into in college. Being without Bucky was bad enough, but being without him  _ and _ without the atmosphere of a school that had practically become his home?

Steve sighed, wanting to simultaneously leave this place and embrace the freedoms of college life, yet never wanting to leave and postponing the cold, cruel outside world.

  
  



	4. (SAM Talks About STEVE'S 'Type')

Leaves began to fall from trees, and a cool breeze swept through the streets, sending the corpses rattling across the pavement. Crunching leaves began covering the long-browned grass, and flannels began making their timely appearance. It had been two months since school began, and the ‘welcome back’ banners had been covered up by those advertising football and lacrosse games. Steve had yet to speak to Bucky, as he and Sam were too busy with their senior projects and the overall workload that came along with senior year. Sam still had yet to find someone that was worth his time, or that was deemed ‘compatible’. He really wasn’t looking forward to the whole dating scene, but it kept his mind off of the fact that he and his best friend were not speaking to one another.

“What about Maria Hill? She’s pretty, and she fits the ‘type’ you tend to go for.”

“I have a type--?”

“Yeah. Dark hair and features.”

“Sharon didn’t have dark hair.” Steve pointed out, and Sam let out a laugh, shaking his head and clapping his shoulder.

“That’s why you didn’t work out. Think about it, you’re friends with me, and I have dark hair and features, I mean look at me,” Sam gestured to himself, “I’m literally  _ black _ .”

“Okay…”

“Bucky has dark hair and features. Stark has dark hair and features and he’d dated Pepper who has light hair and features just like you…”

“So you’re saying that everyone has a ‘type’?”

“Yeah, and now that I know yours, I think that Maria is a good fit for you. She’s smart, sweet, and she enjoys--”

“Sam, I appreciate the thought, but do you really think that this is a good idea while trying to juggle the senior project and all of our other responsibilities this year?”

“I know, Steve, but I care about your happiness, too.” Sam sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I feel like you would be better off having someone that you can share memories with. Someone that will understand you and give you the world and everything you deserve.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sam, but this stuff is important. It’s hard enough to love myself some days, and to put all of my energy into loving someone else as well? I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Sam eyed him carefully, and let out an understanding ‘okay…’, before falling quiet. Steve could only wonder what was going through Sam’s head. There wasn’t much time for silence to grow between the two, before they split off and headed to their designated seventh period classes, Sam heading to engineering and Steve to macroeconomics. 

Even as the professor droned on about international trade and the barriers to entering a market, Steve found himself thinking about what Sam said. Steve understood that he was interested in his wellbeing, but was dating really the answer at such a turbulent time in his life? Bucky didn’t want anything to do with him, senior year was almost halfway over, and a relationship at this point in time would have to end after only a few months, not leaving much room for romantic feelings to bloom. Sam might have been right about him having a ‘type’ though. The people he tended to find himself attracted to  _ did _ happen to follow the formula that Sam had given. Maybe Steve would use that to his advantage after leaving high school, but he felt like the few people he’d dated weren’t  _ right _ . The two women he’d dated had been nice, and he enjoyed spending time with them, but he couldn’t put his finger on why he just wasn’t feeling the same in return. Maybe he was looking for someone who shared enough of a past with him, or maybe they were moving too fast for his romantic inexperience. Either way, something unexplainable was just not  _ right _ when it came to those last two relationships.

And then it hit him.

He had to talk to Bucky.

Only he would understand the difficulties he faced, and would probably have some advice for him as well. He didn’t care if they hadn’t spoken in two months, or if Bucky played lacrosse for Hydra, but he had to not feel alone. Bucky was the one person who made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the world, and that he was good enough not to have to require a significant other.

He had to get into contact with Bucky.


	5. (Enter STEVE, Followed By EMBARRASSMENT, + Uncaught By GAY THOUGHTS)

He didn’t expect the night to end like this-- pinned underneath his pal, his buddy, his Bucky.

Okay, but how had this even happened?

Steve had gone to the Saturday night lacrosse game, in hopes of having some time with Bucky. It was chilly out, a balmy forty degrees fahrenheit, but the stands were packed, making it a little less cold with all of the compacted body heat. There were banners and body paint and chants-- the typical things that you would see at a football game, but it was a lacrosse game. Steve didn’t care much for the shouting, but rather, had his eyes trained on the jersey that read ‘Barnes’, who often played rather dirty and much more aggressively than Steve had ever seen him play before. Maybe it was Hydra’s influence on him, or maybe he had finally learned how to make the best plays to benefit his team. Either way, Hydra beat S.H.I.E.L.D fifteen to twelve, which caused the masses in the stands to flood the field, either booing or cheering depending on whichever team they were supporting (it was obvious, as everyone was decked out in their designated school colours). Steve was one of said people in the throngs of students to enter the field, searching among the black and maroon tee shirts and painted faces, looking for a jersey that read ‘Barnes’. After fighting his way through the mass of sweaty bodies and deafening shouts, he found the jersey he was looking for, but as he outstretched his arm to rest a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he felt a shove that caused him to stumble just as Bucky turned. His hands were on Bucky’s chest, and a force pushed Bucky into Steve…

So now Steve was pinned to the grass and mud, with Bucky over him.

Silence swept over the massive crowd, which was quite a feat, especially since there were easily one hundred people occupying the area. The silence, however, didn’t last long. Catcalls and wolf whistles spread like a wildfire, causing the uproar to be quite a cacophony to the ears. Steve felt himself burn red, and he clambered off of Bucky, offering him a hand up. Bucky refused without so much as a ‘thank you’, before glaring at Steve. His friends began surrounding him, chanting ‘soldad’, leaving Steve, hands muddy and cold, to trudge off the field and back to his car.

 

Returning to school two days later, Steve felt the events of Saturday night weighing on his conscience. At lunch, he sat in the opposite corner at the far end of the library from where he and Sam usually sat. Unfortunately, Sam was just that good of a friend, and found him not long thereafter, with someone else in tow. Upon seeing the auburn bob of Natasha Romanoff, Steve sulked. Nat was a great friend, but she really only spoke to him in passing. Something in her eyes, however, signified more serious intentions. Sam sat next to Steve, while Nat sat across from him, leaning forward on the table, hands clasped in a very business-like manner.

“I know what happened Saturday.”

Steve felt his shoulders slump at the monotonous statement, because of course Nat saw everything, including that embarrassing moment, as if she was some sort of sneaky spy or CIA agent.

“Steve, have you ever considered Bucky as ‘compatible’?” Nat asked, brows furrowing slightly, and Steve wrinkled his brows as well.

“Of course. I went to go talk to him about how things are tense between us, and how it shouldn’t be, but then all of that happened and he stormed off…”

Sam and Nat looked at each other, sharing some sort of knowing look, before Nat scowled and slid over a dollar bill.

“Steve, don’t sound too discouraged. Boyfriends get in fights all the time, like when--”

“ _ Excuse me _ ?” Steve’s eyebrows shot up, and he sent his friends an incredulous look. “Bucky and I-- God no. I-I’m not-- we’re not--”

Sam scowled and returned the dollar bill back to a very smug Natasha.

“Hold on, you were betting  _ money _ on this?!”

“To be fair, Nat asked about how compatible you saw yourself with Barnes, and you responded positively.”

“Yeah, because he’s my best friend. I am not… interested in men romantically.”

“You never know until you try.” Nat shrugged, and Sam nodded in agreement, leaving Steve dumbfounded.

“That’s against my morals. Now I don’t care if you guys like men or women in a homosexual manner, but I am fine with women, thanks.” Steve began packing up his untouched lunch to distract him from his two friends watching him.

The look in Natasha and Sam’s eyes looked sorrowful, almost as if they pitied him. Steve let out a small laugh and shrugged them off.

“I promise I’ll find someone, but today is not that day. Tomorrow doesn’t look so good either.”

Sam and Nat smiled at him, but that look was still in their eyes, as if they didn’t believe Steve. Steve didn’t even believe himself, so at least they were all on the same page there.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, it's been a while. Between graduation + working on personal works, I've been real crappy with updating. I've got chapters already written, so we'll see how updating goes.
> 
> Anyhow, please comment what you think!


	6. (Enter STARK, With A Swagger, + BUCKY With A Knife)

October and November came and went, the breezy fall weather leaving at the whim of a sudden cold snap. The temperatures were low enough to where one could see their own breath, and there came an occasional snow, but it wasn’t enough to cancel school. Winter had come, and from this, Steve learned of Bucky and Hydra’s unrelenting destroyance of the S.H.I.E.L.D lacrosse team. Bucky had apparently been named one of the top players on the team, and word had it that he practiced every day, even in three feet of snow, earning him the nickname, ‘Winter Soldier’.

Steve wasn’t surprised in the least; Bucky was dedicated when it came to lacrosse, and they’d even talked in the past of Bucky continuing on as a professional athlete in college. Last time Steve had actually spoken to Bucky, they’d talked about rooming together, as they were headed to the same college. Steve figured that this was hardly the case now.

He lay in his bed, staring at the MCU banner above his desk. Its stark red and snowy white had always appealed to him, even as a kid, but now without Bucky also dreaming to go to the same school as him anymore, Marvel Chastity University seemed undesirable. Besides the banner were posters and a pinned up jersey of one of the soccer players, the school’s founder and head of the soccer team the year it was open-- Captain Marvel. Surrounded by the MCU merchandise was another school that he’d wanted to go to-- Stanford Lee Institute of the Arts. The Stan Lee banner and assorted soccer tickets and merchandise he had were the school’s colours of grey, white, and blue, which complemented the colours of Marvel University’s quite nicely. Around all of the items pinned to his wall were photographs, some of him and his mother at Disney when he was ten, and others that were more recent, like him and Sam celebrating Sam’s birthday. There was a yellowing photo of his mother holding him just after he was born, and another when he was with his mother as a toddler, holding her hand as they walked across the beach. Then came the dozens of photos of him and Bucky-- ones from kindergarten where they were colouring a dragon together or playing on the playground. The photos continued as they got older, with photos from Christmas parties and birthdays and sporting the colours of MCU together as they toured the campus or when they had gone to a Stan Lee vs Marvel soccer match.The last and most recent photo upon the wall was from the first day of summer this past season. They were at the pool, both wearing nothing but swim trunks as they smiled for the camera. Both of their smiles were small and reserved, almost as if back then, Steve had known that he and Bucky would end up on diverging paths.

Steve let out a heavy sigh, curling up further into his sheets. It really and truly sucked having someone who was such an integral part of your life suddenly be absent from it. It made him feel like he was numb and void of, well, everything. The time apart and lack of any other form of communication was making it worse, leaving Steve hollow and uninterested in everything he used to like, because everything he’d liked, Bucky had too. There was nothing that wasn’t painstakingly empty with the hole Bucky left behind.

His cell phone ringing with the tune of Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’ caused hesitation, especially upon the realisation that Tony Stark was calling him, and why the hell did Steve have his contact information? With a heavy sigh, Steve answered.

“Hey, Ro-- Steve, we’re gonna crash Hydra’s end of year bash for their football and lacrosse teams. Wanna come?”

“I-- uh, no thanks. Thanks for the offer though, Tony.”

“Okay, well I guess-- oh wait never mind. I’m lost and, huh, this seems to be 1942 Coalfaith Avenue…”

Steve rolled out of bed and peeked through his blinds to find a black mustang in the driveway below. He let out an audible groan, and Tony’s smug voice overcame him once more.

“Suit up, sugarbear. Nat sent me to pick you up.”

Steve hung up the phone, grabbing his charger and keys, shrugging on his favourite bomber jacket that had earned him many nicknames synonymous with ‘America’, as it was navy, red, and white. He kept his khakis and thin white tee shirt, deciding that he would deal with the minimal cold. It wasn’t like he was going to be outside long, anyway. They were crashing some sort of overcrowded house party with (knowing Stark) dozens of other S.H.I.E.L.D students in tow.

He stepped out of his house and into the frigid cusp of day meeting its demise as the sun set and night smothered the land. Tony stood by the car waiting, before opening the door for Steve, and crossing over to the driver’s seat to get behind the wheel. It struck Steve as odd that he was the only other person in the car, as Tony usually had other friends.

“Where’s your entourage?” Steve asked jokingly, and Tony started up the car with a roar, before beginning to back out of the driveway.

“Rhodey and Pep are herding the masses, while Viz is laying out the tactics to storming the place.”

“‘Herding the masses’? How many--?”

“Eh, only the football team, lacrosse team, and anyone related or who wants to join.”

“Tony, that’s almost a hundred people.”

Tony shrugged nonchalantly as he headed out of the neighbourhood. Steve decided it was better to keep his mouth shut than to prompt more questions and possibly an argument, and thus, they rode in silence. It wasn’t long before Tony broke that silence, however, being the chatterbox that he was.

“So, what are your plans for prom?”

“Prom? That’s still six months away. I haven’t even thought about midterms yet.”

“It’s actually five months and three days, nice try. So you’re saying you haven’t asked anyone to go with you yet?”

“I-- What did I just say? I don’t have time to think about trivial things like prom at the moment with midterms and getting my workload in order.”

“How about I pick you up at six, we go for dinner, and then head to the venue at eight?”

“Are you-- Did you just--” Steve sputtered, but the car shut off and Tony gracefully slid out of the driver’s seat, indicating their arrival. “I-- I’m straight!”

“So’s spaghetti ‘til it gets wet.” Tony winked, before turning toward the group that had amassed upon the front yard of the party-- Hydra’s stronghold.

“Alright, everyone, thanks for coming.” Tony grinned and clapped his hands together, before motioning toward the house. “Let’s just do it.”

There came cheers and then came the chaos of dozens upon dozens of students flooding on to the yard of a crowded house, knocking on the door. Some people even completely avoided the front door and took to the backyard, jumping the fence as they went. There came shouts from the backyard just as the front door opened, and they were greeted by Rumlow, who scowled upon seeing the mass of students, led by Tony and Steve. Steve hadn’t even meant to be right at the front of the crowd, but here he was anyway.

“What do you want?” He growled, and Tony beamed, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders, making Steve mildly uncomfortable with the sudden closeness of Tony standing on his tiptoes to reach.

“Vengeance. You dirty, dirty bastards were handing money under the table to the refs to have the games in your favour.” Tony shook his head mockingly, making soft ‘tsk tsk’ noises, before Steve felt him pull him closer. “And Steve and I here don’t think that’s very kind of you, so we’ve gathered our… classmates who agree with us, and come to break up your victory bash, because you don’t deserve it.”

Rumlow scowled, while Tony smirked smugly. Tony proceeded to unloop his arm from around Steve’s shoulder, turning to the remaining students behind him. He nodded, motioning for the crowd to wreak havoc, leading to shouts and pushing and the general chaos of a mildly-displeased mob.

And Steve was at the front of it.

This resulted into Steve being pushed into Tony, and the both of them barreling into Rumlow, who thankfully managed to move out of the way. Well, thankfully for him. For Steve, he fell on top of Tony, knocking the playboy to the hardwood floor of the entryway. Footsteps pounded around them as the other students flooded into the house around them, and only once they had gone by was Steve able to get up off of Tony.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how aggressive--”

“Doesn’t matter how aggressive it is, as long as I’m under you.” Tony winked, and Steve felt his cheeks burn bright. He pushed himself up off of where he was on the ground over Tony, muttering about how he wasn’t gay.

“Keep telling yourself that, sugarboo.”

Steve entered the completely destroyed family room, where many disgruntled S.H.I.E.L.D students were beginning to pick fights with the Hydra students. One of said students was one James Buchanan Barnes, his brunette hair shaggy and almost reaching his shoulders, with matching coloured stubble growing along his jaw. His blue eyes were frosted over as he spoke lowly to one of the students that had trampled over Steve earlier. Steve recognised her as Storm, a quiet but opinionated girl who was friends with T’Challa and Natasha. Her grey-white hair and cocoa skin deeply contrasted Bucky’s dark hair and rather fair skin, making her easily recognisable.

“You are an asshole, and don’t deserve to be considered a captain, much less a member of the lacrosse team.”

Bucky didn’t even respond, instead scowling and launching forward with his fists flying. One of his fists was clenched tighter than the other, and as Steve watched Storm back away to avoid the attack, he noticed the knife in Bucky’s hands.

Steve felt his heart lurch into his throat as he witnessed Storm being backed further into a corner, unknowingly coming closer to being attacked by Bucky. Steve didn’t hesitate as he grabbed a heavy silver platter littered with crumbs and decorated with a star at its centre, jumping in and sandwiching himself between Storm and the knife. The knife hit the make-shift shield Steve held with a loud noise that reverberated through the room, silencing those that had been muttering quietly.

“Bucky, this isn’t like you. Please--”

Steve found himself cut off by a sudden swipe of Bucky’s knife that came far too close for his liking. He pushed Bucky out of the corner to make some leeway for Storm to escape, but instead, she stood and stood beside Steve, arms crossed.

“Storm, right? Get out of here while you--”

“It’s just as much my fight as it is yours, Cap.” Storm responded, using the soccer team’s nickname for him, taking a defensive stance next to him as she grabbed the first weapon she found-- an inch long pickle fork.

Steve was frustrated with the fact that people kept interrupting him, as well as the fact that this was his fight, not Storm’s. There wasn’t exactly much time to argue, however, as Bucky continued lunging at them with the steak knife, hitting the make-shift shield that Steve was protecting himself and Storm with. Steve managed to even push Bucky back, who stumbled and almost fell over. In that moment, Steve saw the madness and chaos that was Bucky Barnes.

Pupils almost covering the beautiful blue of his irises. A snarl on his face, brows furrowed. Dark hair greasy and shaggy-- longer than Steve had ever seen it. Hands gripping the knife to where his knuckles were white. He reeked of gasoline, like he’d been at some sort of gas station for hours on end. His shirt was worn and his muscles were taught with anger as he continued to take a stab at Steve. A hand fell upon Bucky’s shoulder, and he whipped around, nearly stabbing the person.

“C’mon Barnes, they’re not worth it. There’s a line in the kitchen for you.” The guy clapped his shoulder, and Bucky seemed to snap out of it, walking over to the kitchen counter where a group of his teammates were huddled.

Curiosity got the better of Steve, and he too found himself in the kitchen, peering between bodies to try and get a good look at whoever was waiting on Bucky.

It turns out, no one was waiting on Bucky.

Instead, Bucky was at the island in the kitchen, credit card in hand, leaned over the counter with a fine line of--

Steve felt sick. His stomach rolled as he tried to think of where he went wrong. How could Bucky be sitting in a house party, at the depths of Hydra’s influence, doing cocaine? Jesus. Steve felt the ground tilt beneath him as it suddenly hit him- Bucky wasn’t here on his own will. 

Here he was, being drugged up and under the influence of Hydra’s poisons. How he had gotten hooked in the first place, Steve didn’t know, but what he did know is that this was  _ not _ the Bucky he knew. The Bucky he knew was soft and gentle, a slight asshole when he wanted to be, but otherwise respectable and even kind. The Bucky he knew laughed at him when he stuffed his shoes with newspapers in order to ride certain roller coasters at the county fair. The Bucky he knew let him seek refuge with him after Steve’s mother died, before moving in with an aunt. The Bucky he knew was a part of his XBox Call of Duty WWII group, The Howling Commandos. The Bucky he knew was not this man before him, and Steve had to do something about it.

“Ro-- Steve, are you alright?” Came the voice of Tony, and Steve blinked, realising that he was staring into the kitchen still, where another Hydra victim was becoming under the influence.

“I-- Yeah. I just-- I don’t like it here with the drugs and all…”

“Okay, I’ll take you back to my place, where you can chill out. You just fought Barnes with a knife, and that isn’t exactly something considered a ‘small feat’.”

Steve could only nod numbly, not even hearing a word Tony was saying. He was too busy formulating his plan to save Bucky.

It was only after he was in the passenger seat of Tony’s luxury sports car and after they blew by his street at a frightening speed that Steve realised that he wasn’t going directly home. He felt himself stiffen as he wondered where the actual hell he was going, before they reached somewhere Steve had never heard of and only then did he have the guts to ask.

“W-Where are we going?”

“Uh… My house?” Tony said it with the biggest ‘well duh’ sounding voice known to man, only glancing over at Steve as they pulled up to a stop light. “I told you this at the Hydra house and you agreed to it--”

“Oh.” Was all Steve managed, mentally face-palming himself for his general absent minded agreement at such a suggestion like going to the richest kid in the entire city’s  _ house _ .

God, Steve could only wonder what surprises he was in for.

  
  



	7. (Enter STARK + STEVE, To STARK’S Mansion, + PEPPER Is A Sweetheart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhh,, so apparently I am the Biggest Dipshit + was so excited to post what is now chapter 6, that I completely forgot to post chapter 5. Apologies, + I recommend rereading all of this to clarify things.
> 
> also this chapter gets touchy toward the end about sexuality.

An iron gate was opened upon the arrival of the black mustang, leaving Tony to drive up a driveway lined with small topiaries that led directly to an enormous mansion. The driveway curved around at the front of the house, and Tony parked his car there, before opening the door for Steve like a gentleman. Steve Rogers didn’t even know what to do in response, looking stunned as he exited the car and made his way up the small set of stairs to the grand front doors. An older man was holding the doors open, his face stoic as he looked Steve over, before turning to Tony.

“Mister Stark, a pleasure.”

“I thought we talked about this, Happy. Mister Stark is my father. I’m just Tony.”

“Well, ‘Just Tony’, pizza has been delivered and is sitting in your workshop. I’m sure your… guest… here, would probably like something as well.” The guy holding the door raised his brow at Steve when he said ‘guest’, and Steve could only wonder what he meant.

Tony just walked past the guy without a response, and Steve bowed his head, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as he passed into the threshold of the house.

And holy deity above.

A glass staircase that looked like it was floating curved up to the second floor, which had glass protecting it, as if it were a balcony to overlook the first floor entrance. Steve was awestruck by the sheer size of the place, and blindly followed Tony as he made his way around the staircase to another set of stairs, this time, concrete, that led toward a bottom floor. Upon reaching the bottom floor, there were areas sectioned off with glass panels and doors, looking in on warped metal, wires, tools, and other projects strewn about. Tony opened one of the sectioned off areas and invited Steve in, clearing off a seat covered in screws and nuts, before picking up the pizza box that sat upon the table of clutter and handed it to Steve.

“Welcome to Mi Casa.” Tony said in a carefree demeanor, before opening the pizza box upon Steve’s lap and stealing a slice.

“Uh… thanks.” Steve picked out a small slice of what looked like the meat lover’s pizza and bit into it, thankful that sustenance was being put into his body. 

“Hey, it’s a great place to unwind.We have a movie room upstairs if you wanna watch some Netflix and chill?” Tony suggested, shrugging his shoulders, taking a bite so large from his slice of pizza that it was almost already gone. Both slightly disgusting and admirable.

“Yes, but are your parents around? I don’t want to be rude and not introduce myself…”

“You’ve already met my dad-- I’m so sorry that you had to meet him at all-- and both of my birth-givers are out of town, so it’s just us and Happy.”

“Oh.” Was all that Steve could manage, before Tony picked the pizza off of his lap and motioned for him to follow. Steve did so, obediently trailing behind Tony as he led them back up to the main floor and then up to the second floor. The first door on the left was opened, and Steve followed Tony in, finding a large bed, posters, some loose nuts and bolts, a desk with blueprints and a computer…

“T-This is your room.” 

“Yeah, but it can also be a personal theater.” Tony dimmed the lights, and across from the bed was a plasma television screen bigger than Steve had ever seen in his life.

Before they could even begin to choose a movie, Pepper Potts burst into the room. She was slightly taken aback at the presence of Steve, and grabbed his arm, jerking him into the hallway with her. She shut the door to Tony’s room before he could protest and Steve was greeted with a judgemental raised brow.

“Let me guess, ‘Netflix and chill’?”

“Yeah, how--”

Pepper let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose in distress, shaking her head all the while. When she looked back at Steve, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulders.

“‘Netflix and chill’ is a euphemism for… Tony’s idea of a good time.”

“I mean I like watching Netflix, too but--”

“No, Steve.” Pepper motioned at the door leading to Tony’s room and raised her brows suggestively.

Oh.

“Oh that’s not what I--”

“I know, Steve. Why do you think I pulled you out of his lair?”

“Hey, I can hear you, and that’s just rude, Pep.” Came Tony’s voice through the door, sounding utterly offended.

Pepper just rolled her eyes, letting herself and Steve back into Tony’s ‘lair’, to find the billionaire sulking as he was splayed across his bed, shirtless and with something glowing blue in the centre of his tanned chest. Steve averted his eyes at the fact that Tony was literally shirtless, even though Pepper didn’t seem to care.

“Steve, it’s just a part that helps with my heart transplant, you don’t have to look away.”

Steve had heard rumors a few years ago about that. Many said that Tony had been over in Afghanistan and was captured, before having to make the replacement heart machine himself. This rumor was the most popular, as well as simultaneously the most far-fetched. Steve hadn’t cared for all of the tall tales, because there was no way that Tony Stark would even need some sort of heart transplant. But here he was, and Steve found himself very wrong, and he could only wonder what actually happened.

“I-- no, you’re shirtless.”

“So? What, afraid you’ll catch the gay, Rogers?” Tony’s voice was snarky, and he had a smirk on his face.

Steve felt his cheeks burn even brighter, and he scowled at himself. How could he let Stark get under his skin? 

“I’m  _ not _ gay, Stark.” Steve emphasized and glared at Tony, before turning hot on his heels and leaving. 

Upon rushing out of the mansion into the night and listening to its grand front doors shutting behind him, Steve realised that he hadn’t the slightest clue as to where he was. He pulled out his phone to call Sam or Nat, when he felt a delicate hand rest upon his bicep and turned to find Pepper. She had pulled her strawberry-blonde hair back into a messy bun, and had swapped her slacks and blazer out for ripped skinny jeans and a maroon sweatshirt that was a few sizes too large for her that read, ‘Universitia de Roma’.

“He has the tendency to rub people the wrong way.” Pepper sighed, and Steve scoffed, nodding his head in agreement.

“No kidding-- I commend you for putting up with him for so long.”

Pepper gave him a rather wistful smile, and began walking down the front steps, and Steve hesitated before following her. They strolled along the curved drive and over toward the grand garage, before Pepper spoke again.

“Tony is… really hard difficult sometimes, but with his father never being there for him, and both Howard and his mother passing away the other night--”

“ _ What _ ?” Steve felt his heart sink rapidly, as if an anchor had been tied to it. “I-I had no idea--”

“Tony’s kept it on the down-low, but between the whole issue with his parents and because of that, having sub-par social skills on an intimate level is… challenging for him. It takes some time to get used to, and I really and truly do understand why you’re so off-put by him, but if you look past his… abrasive remarks and snide comments, he really is a nice guy, Steve.”

“Alright.” Steve swallowed, trying to take in all of the information that Pepper had just given him. A heart transplant from a few years ago,  _ and _ his parents died only a few nights ago? God, Steve had to send some prayers for this guy.

“That being said, however, he has no right to keep coming on to you despite your objections. He isn’t exactly the most romantic, but if he does keep pestering you, please, by all means, let me know. I’ve spoken to Natasha, and she said that you were interested in someone already, and Tony has no right to--”

Steve furrowed his brows.  _ What _ ?

“I beg your pardon?” Steve inquired incredulously, and Pepper turned to type in a code, allowing the garage to open. She continued in and wove around numerous sports cars, beginning to speak as Steve followed close behind.

“Well, Natasha says that she’s been keeping a close eye on you, which apparently leads her, Clint, and Sam to believe that you have a love interest…”

Steve shook his head as they approached a small beat up Caddie, upon which Pepper slid into the driver’s seat, and Steve followed suit, sliding into shotgun.

“Is this about Maria Hill? Because as nice as she is, I’m not remotely interested in romantic entanglements with her, especially since she’s Nick Fury’s top dog.”

“No, not her. Nat made that extremely clear.” Pepper started the car and began to pull out of the garage, circling the drive, and heading out to the main road. 

“Then who--”

“Barnes.”

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. Sam and Nat had placed  _ bets _ on that the other day, despite the fact that he’d denied, so how did Pepper-?

Oh, right. Steve forgot that Pepper and Nat were in cahoots with one another.

“Steve, I know that--”

“I’m not gay, I thought you already heard me tell Tony this. I am not remotely interested in men romantically because that’s sinful and goes against my Jewish-Christian beliefs I was brought up on, not to mention--”

“Steve,” Pepper whispered gently, and Steve realised that they’d pulled over into a grassy null, parked practically in the middle of nowhere. Steve turned to find her gaze soft and understanding, causing the pent up frustration to slowly leave him.

“You’re hurting, Steve. You say these things that you want to believe, but aren’t true. You and Barnes aren’t just friends, you’re--”

“We’re best friends. I would do anything for Buck, but that does not mean that I am romantically interested in him.”

“I want you to listen to yourself. You and Barnes have been best friends for a long time, and done practically everything together. Natasha has brought to my attention that your only relationships-- your past two-- have been with women, and that you’ve held them up to the standard of your best friend.”   
“Bucky is the only one that understands. He’s known me and can read me, know what I’m thinking, and isn’t that supposed to be how a relationship works?”

“Exactly. Barn-- Bucky knows you better than anyone, and shares a past with you. You just proved the point that Sam, Nat, Clint, and I are trying to make-- Bucky is your other half.”

“Pepper, I’m not gay. The Torah explicitly states that--”

“Yes, but keep in mind that the torah and the bible were written back in the sixth century-- well over fourteen centuries ago. The things that they were dealing with are almost nothing like today’s standards.”

“We still have poverty, oppression--”

“And repression. Steve, you’re saying things that you want to believe, and in the process, you’re pushing how you truly feel to the back of your mind. You’re meant to be yourself, and it kills me and everyone else that you’re hurting yourself this way.” Pepper was gentle, and touched one of Steve’s clenched up fists that was resting in his lap. Her hands were warm and soft, reminding him of the comforts of his mother in a way.

“Pep--”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me, Steve Rogers.”

Steve saw the softness in her blue eyes, clouded with sorrow, and her lips pulled into a taut line. Steve felt a lump begin to form in his throat, and his heart raced, blood roaring in his ears. Steve scowled at himself and opened the door of the car, feeling the chill air of the night upon his burning skin. He slammed the door, only to hear the same sound come from Pepper’s side of the vehicle. She approached him by coming around the back of the car, and watched him carefully. Steve felt his hands that were clenched into fists grow clammy, and he closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself. Memories flooded back to him, every time that Bucky had pushed him on the swings when they were kids. Every time their parents made them hold hands as they crossed the street together in elementary school. Every time Bucky laughed at one of Steve’s stupid jokes. Every time they celebrated one of Steve’s soccer team’s victories, or one of Bucky’s lacrosse wins. When they would crash on the couch at two in the morning playing video games. When their mothers would make them breakfast hen they slept over. When they mourned the loss of Steve’s mother. When they rode the transport buses around the city that took them out of state. When they went to the pool, and Steve could take in the tan hands and messy hair that were Steve’s lifeline as he sat on Bucky’s shoulders, playing a game of chicken against Clint and Natasha...

Steve opened his eyes, taking a shaky breath. He looked Pepper in the eyes, his vision foggy, hazy with memories. The sharp lump in his throat was practically suffocating him.

“Pepper, I am not--” Steve’s voice cracked, and his face grew uncomfortably warm. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat. “Pepper,”

But even her name came out as nothing more than a ragged whisper.

“Steve?”

“I-I’m not--”

He couldn’t even finish his statement, instead, just shaking his head. Pepper placed a gentle hand on his arm and suddenly, her small arms were wrapped around him comfortingly. He buried his face into her sweatshirt, and inhaled her sweet, warm scent. She gently stroked his hair, calming him.

“I-- Steve, I had to do it. It was a dying woman’s wish.”

Steve froze, and Pepper continued on, despite his speechlessness.

“When Peggy was…” Pepper trailed off, and sighed, continuing. “She told me and Nat to make you aware, because she didn’t want you to suffer any more than you had to.”

“God, you three were-- unbelievable.” Steve let out a small laugh and shook his head, sniffling as tears burned down his cheeks.

“Yeah, we... uh planned a girl’s trip after graduation, but then Peggy-- anyhow, we were told to make you aware, because the three of us care about you more than you think.”

Pepper fell quiet, her nails gently scraping against Steve’s scalp as she pet his hair. Steve closed his eyes and his tears fell to Pepper’s hoodie, growing colder as they made their way down his cheeks.

“What do I do?” Steve whispered, and Pepper gently began playing with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

“For now, I don’t want you to stress out. It’s new, and obviously not exactly comfortable for you just yet, so I want you to think about it. Read stories of other people just like you. Figure yourself out, Steve, because you might not be gay. You might like women just as much as men, but you just need to take a breather and figure yourself out. Reorient yourself.”

Steve nodded, and they pulled away from one another. Pepper smiled, gently covering her hands with her long sweater sleeves and delicately wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this scene at the end is very personal to me, because I kinda ghost-wrote myself. I went through almost the exact same reaction + talk as Steve did with Pep, + I want you all to know that it's not all sunshine + rainbows when you come to terms with yourself.
> 
> thanks for reading, + comment your thoughts!


	8. (A Cocoon of Contemplation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: depression + dealing with grief after losing someone close to illness

Steve was reluctant to roll out of bed, but upon realising that it was Saturday and not Monday, he felt a bit better. He promised himself that he’d go for a run later, but for right now, he was replaying the events that had taken place the night before. The crying, the mentions of Peggy, the hug, and the comfortability that Steve had felt with himself in that moment. He was so thankful that Pepper had told him and just been there for him, and it caused a small smile to grace his face.

Steve had known Pepper for a few years, but it had been more of a professional basis and distant greetings between classes. She often followed Stark around, and Steve knew that the two had dated on and off for years, before finally splitting (only to get back together in junior year). From there, he’d seen Pepper more often hanging out with Peggy and Natasha back in freshman year, who became a familiar face to him. He had also been aware that at some point, Pepper and Natasha had been a thing, but decided to stick with being friends in the end. Pepper then split her time evenly between Stark and his posse and spending time with Peggy and Natasha. Steve had gotten to know Pepper a little bit at one of Peggy’s birthday parties, but they got closer when tragedy struck. In the middle of sophomore year, Peggy had been diagnosed with Lou Gerhig’s Disease. Within the next month and a half she was in a wheelchair and having trouble writing notes in class. She eventually whittled her time at school down to not being there at all as her condition drastically worsened. She was in the hospital and bedridden, ‘slowly turning into a doll’ as she had put it. Steve, Sam, Bucky, Nat, and Pepper were brought closer by the fact that someone they all loved was suffering.

And then, Peggy moved on to a better place.

In those following weeks, Steve shut himself off. Barely spoke. People came by at lunch wishing their condolences. Steve ignored them.

Peggy’s funeral had included just about everyone from the school, which infuriated Steve. Most of them hadn’t even known Peggy, but had pretended to with shitty sob stories to gain attention. After Steve and his friends had made their farewell speeches, Peggy had been placed under acidic soil, with a few seeds planted closer to the surface next to her headstone. Those seeds were of Forget-Me-Nots, her favourite flowers.

Steve really hadn’t realised how much he truly appreciated Pepper until last night, though. She was the kind of person he needed more of in his life. She was firm, yet delicate. She got shit done, yet was a charismatic, outgoing, and all around  _ great _ person. She gave sweet, genuine hugs, and Steve believed that if Peggy were here, she would be proud of Pepper’s work.

What really boggled Steve’s mind was the fact that Peggy knew him better than he knew himself. He was beginning to understand Pepper’s recommendation to “take a breather and figure yourself out”. He really didn’t know himself.

So there he lay, comforter pulled up to his chin, a cocoon in the warmth of his bed. He honestly didn’t want to leave the comfort of his sheets. His stomach, however, had other plans, to which Steve reluctantly complied.

A bowl of cereal and a blueberry muffin later, and Steve was back in the safety of his room. He curled up in his armchair across the room, picking up his phone that had been charging from the night before and unplugging it. It lit up, and upon the screen was a message from Pepper.

‘Hope you’re having a good morning. If you need help with anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me! X’

Steve felt a small smile grace his lips, bringing his phone with him to bed, beginning to scroll through his old photos. The first one on his camera roll was a lingering photo from sophomore year of a sheet of homework. Upon deleting the photo, the next oldest photo appeared. It was a photocopied picture of Bucky and Steve in kindergarten, mouths covered in matching red and blue frosting and grinning up at the camera. Steve remembered it had been some sort of class party, and his mother couldn’t resist taking a photo.

The next was a video that had been taken by his mother on their camcorder, and it was of some sort of line at the same class party. It zoomed in on Steve and Bucky, who were standing next to each other in line, rather than single file like the rest of the kids. It cut off abruptly after Bucky leaned in to cup his hand around Steve’s ear and whispering something. Steve could only wonder what Bucky could have said to him.

A few photos of vacation destinations, before Steve found a few pictures of him and Bucky at the beach two summers ago. Steve was like an albino toothpick in comparison to Bucky’s full tan build, but they were both beaming nonetheless. The series of photos was of them posing in front of the waves, one where they were laughing together, one where Steve had jumped on Bucky’s back, and the last one was of them smiling, their arms slung around each other.

_ “She didn’t want you to suffer any more than you had to.” _

Steve flipped back through those photos and stared at them for a while. It was almost plain as day, and he could see clearly (or *cough cough*  _ queerly _ ) now that Bucky had never been just a best friend. Even when Steve had been scrawny in those photos, there was no mistaking the genuine happiness in his smile or the love in his eyes as he looked at Bucky. How could he not have seen it? It was so blatantly obvious that even Peggy and Sam had known.

God, Steve rubbed his eyes. This revelation was mind boggling, and he could only wonder how long this had been going on. Apparently it had been going on long enough that others had figured it out.

Maybe… Maybe it had been going on his whole life.

Steve thought about this. Denying his feelings seemed to have kept the secret of his sexuality from even himself. He’d unknowingly been living in misery for years, and now that he  _ knew _ , now that he was  _ free _ , there was no longer a heavy weight upon his chest. But now what? What would people say? If Peggy and Sam and his other friends knew, then who else knew? Tony surely knew, hell, he’d been relentlessly after Steve just the night before. Did Steve feel the same way in return?

He thought about it. Yes, Tony was handsome in his own oddly rugged and narcissistic way. He wasn’t exactly the most compatible match for Steve, what with his snide comments and rude mouth, but he wasn’t all bad. Did Steve feel that way toward Tony? Not really. He was no Bucky.

_ He was no Bucky. _

In that moment, Steve realised that the only person that could possibly be the right fit for him was one Bucky Barnes.

There were two things standing in the way of this happy ending for Steve: firstly, Bucky was easily the most heterosexual person the grace the planet, and secondly, Bucky was in the addictive clutches of Hydra.

So in reality, Steve still had to work to get Bucky back, but even after achieving that, there was no way Bucky would even think of him romantically.

Was there?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've lost many people in my life that I was very close to-- some to suicide + others to terminal illnesses. Again, kinda ghost-wrote based on some of my personal life events.


	9. (Enter STARK with Bad Timing, + SAM is a Voice of Reason)

The next Friday, Bucky was at school.

Steve didn’t even realise at first. He was too busy with his headphones in his ears and working on both his art piece and senior project at the same time. He only saw Bucky for the first time, however, at lunch.

In the library, Steve had hauled a canvas up and placed it beside him. He was careful to balance his sandwich on the edge of his paint palette, one earbud in his ear, and the other open to listen to Sam. Nat and Pepper had also joined them.

“You know, Steve, I think you’re a great friend no matter how you identify. I’m just glad you’re at peace with it for the most part.” Sam bit into his stupid Little Debbie cosmic brownie, giving Steve a small smile.

“I’m not really sure yet, but I-I’m figuring it out.” Steve muttered quietly, leaning over to scrape a bit of the phthalo green with the midnight black and a bit of the titan white…

Sam began speaking to Pep and Nat, leaving Steve to nod his head and tap a foot to his music. He scraped his palette knife on to the canvas, blocking in the shape of the flower crown. He gently took the green and mixed it with the shade of yellow he’d managed to snag, before scraping in highlights and adding depth to the leaves. When he placed the paint palette down, he wiped his head with the back of his hand, stressing over the fact that the portrait was due next week. He turned to ask Sam when the senior project was due, when Sam grinned at him, letting out a small laugh.

“Siiiiimbaaaaa…” He rumbled lowly, at the same time Pep handed him her compact mirror. He took it and looked at his forehead to find that he’d somehow managed to swipe some red paint across his forehead. He took the napkin that Nat offered and scrubbed at it, getting most of it off.

“Rude.” Steve muttered, and the bell rang signalling the end of lunch.

Steve took longer than the others and encouraged them to go ahead to their next classes without him, and so they went, leaving Steve to pack up his art supplies. He took his time-- his next period was art, and his teacher didn’t mind. Steve had finally finished up his sandwich and covering his paints, and turned to grab his canvas and fold up the easel. When all was said and done, Steve turned to leave, finding none other than Bucky Barnes standing before him. His arms were crossed over his  grey shirt and army green jacket, and Steve noticed that his shaggy hair was pushed back by the grey baseball cap he was wearing.

“Need help?”

Steve could only gape, shaking his head. He snapped his mouth shut and ducked his head as he exited the library, attempting to calm his racing heart.

Why was Bucky  _ here _ ? Wasn’t he with Hydra? 

Questions swirled in Steve’s mind, and he pushed through the crowd of people, the overall commotion almost over stimulating his senses. Upon entering the threshold of the art room, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He began setting up his art station, staring into space at his easel.

Bucky was here. At S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve felt his head pound. This wasn’t right. Bucky had been in a wildly crazed state and attacked him with a knife last time they came into contact. Now here he was, asking if Steve needed help with carrying his items to his next class. Bucky didn’t even  _ know _ his next class (but to be fair it was safe to say that he was headed to art, what with the giant freaking easel and all).

Steve shook his head and unwrapped his paints once more, turning his music up a few notches and getting lost in blocking in the basic highlights and lowlights of the person’s face. He wasn’t exactly sure who he was painting, but when he took a step back a while later to observe his work, he realised. The person’s face shape and the curve of the mouth…

He was painting Bucky.

Steve let out a groan, finding the will to paint suddenly sapped from him. He placed his paints away and tucked his portrait into a back corner to dry. He couldn’t think about Bucky right now. His judgement over the whole ordeal was cloudy-- between finding out that he had viewed Bucky as a suitable significant other since practically forever, as well as realising that Bucky had been under the serious influence of drugs thanks to Hydra. How could Bucky get roped into the drugs and betrayal?

Steve found himself staring off into space and thinking for the rest of the period, barely hearing the bell ringing over his blaring music. He headed to government, meeting up with Sam along the way, who gave him the look of ‘I know what’s going on and I feel the same way’. They maintained their silence even as they entered the classroom, Sam sitting in the seat just behind Steve.

“I don’t get it--” Steve turned around to finally speak, and Sam nodded in understanding.

“I know.”

“He was aggressive when I--”

“I know.”

“But at the same time, the only person I could ever see myself…  _ with _ .”

Sam gave him a sad half-smile, just nodding his head and placing a sturdy hand upon Steve’s shoulder for a moment. His dark eyes held the level of understanding that Steve wanted from him, and the flicker of hope that they could make things work for Steve’s sake.

“Uh… Is this seat--?”

Steve turned to find Bucky pointing at the seat beside him, but before Steve could open his mouth to answer, someone else spoke.

“My good Captain!” Came from where Tony Stark was swaggering in the doorway, and he grinned at Steve, before resting a hand on his shoulder and sitting in the seat next to him. The exact seat that Bucky had been asking him to sit in.

“Hey Tony.” Steve mumbled quietly, pretending not to notice as he dug in his bag for his notes on the Bureaucracy that they’d begun to take yesterday.

“Wanna come to my place after school? I just got the Terminator series shipped in, and a little bird told me that you’d never seen the movies.”

“I-- uh… I haven’t, and I’d love to, but I have to work on this art piece to turn in for next Friday and work on the senior project that’s due on Sunday night.”

“Hey, that-- it’s…,” Tony waved his hand in dismissal. “Totally understand. Another weekend. You owe me, Rogers.”

“Uhuh.” Steve responded in a non-committal way, glancing over to find Bucky sitting behind Tony, head bowed and writing something, probably catching up on the notes.

God, Tony had the worst timing. Steve turned back to mutter this thought to Sam when the class began, notes being screened on the whiteboard.

By the end of class, Steve was too focused on attempting to wrap his mind around Independent Regulatory Commissions to notice that Tony had slipped him a note. As he gathered his things before the bell, Tony pushed it into his visual vicinity. He raised a brow and unfolded it, finding Tony’s scrawled penmanship staring back at him.

_ 4:30 Next Friday. Movie choice is mine this time. You owe me for leaving me to go home with Pep. _

Steve let out a sigh and folded the note neatly, placing it delicately in the back pocket of his jeans. He didn’t want to end up as the next fling in the ongoing list that was accumulating for Tony Stark. He wasn’t even sure if he exactly wanted to be friends with the guy, but being friends with him was the least he could do after the help he’d received from the late Howard Stark. So he figured he’d hang out with Tony, only under the emphasis that he wasn’t gay for the billionaire playboy.

“Steve,” Sam called, and Steve smiled meekly at Tony, before following Sam toward the door right as the bell rang. Sam and Steve walked together in silence, when a pair of hands rested upon both Steve and Sam’s shoulders. They looked back to find T’Challa wearing the traditional dress of his people, and Steve swore Sam’s cheeks burned red upon making eye contact with the Wakandan native.

“Captain,” He rumbled, and Steve realised that Sam was right-- his voice was rather velvety.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Steve used the title that T’Challa had gained after his father, the monarch of the Wakandan nation, had passed away a few weeks ago. 

“I am done letting vengeance consume me, and I will not let it consume me any longer. I will assist in treating Barnes, along with Miss Romanov and Miss Potts.”

“I, uh…” Steve hadn’t even known that Pepper and Nat had been helping Bucky in the first place, “I-- Thank you.”

“It is not a problem.” T’Challa bowed slightly, before turning to Sam. “Mister Wilson, congratulations. It has come to my attention that you were accepted into Fenthurst University.”

“I-- Yeah, I was. T-Thanks, Your Highness.” Steve watched Sam’s grin turn absolutely dorky, and T’Challa seemed to notice as well, offering him a slight smile.

“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” T’Challa’s smile grew minimally larger, and winked, before turning and heading in the opposite direction. The moment he left, Sam’s head whipped back around and the smile vanished from his face.

“Steve, you witnessed all of what just happened, yeah? He was practically purring with that velvet rumble...”

“You were smitten with that kitten.” Steve let out a small laugh, and Sam scowled.

“You say a word, and I’ll end you.”

“What? Cat got the canary already?” Steve’s smile grew more sly, and even Sam smiled.

“Hey, back off. I’m a falcon, not a canary.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised how hard it is to equally spend time updating fics on both here and fanfic.
> 
> ALSO,,,, FIVE DAYS UNTIL INFINITY WAR IS OUT ON BLU-RAY  
> (but if you wanna stream your faves, I found IW free on 123movies. god bless, y'all)


	10. (BUCKY Breaks + SAM is Shook™)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is partially Civil War compliant (Rhodey + destroying his legs kinda) + other spoilers.  
> yeehaw.

Steve tried to wrap his mind around the idea that Pep, Nat, and now T’Challa were helping Bucky for reasons that he couldn’t begin to understand. Was it because Bucky held something valuable to them? Or was it that they wanted to assist Steve with his path to happiness? He could only wonder.

Now Steve sat at his desktop, wanting desperately to smash his face repeatedly upon the keyboard, wishing that his senior project and the essay that went along with it would finish themselves. He couldn’t find the motivation to finish any part of his homework, for that matter, as a result of not only senioritis, but also because of the fact that every turn of events had become more and more confusing as the time passed on.

Steve’s phone went off with a loud, ‘caw caw motherfucker!’, and he answered it without hesitation, thankful for the distraction.

“What’s up, Sam?”

“Trouble. Stark found out about us apparently harbouring Barnes and lost it. Rhodes came after me on behalf of Stark, and I… uh… He’s in the emergency room.”

Steve sat up so quickly to the point where he nearly launched himself out of his chair.

“You  _ what _ ?!”

“I just knocked him upside the head and he stumbled… hit his legs kinda hard on a table filled with beer bottles… there’s glass in his legs but he’s gonna be fine.”

“This is all because we’re helping Buck?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Maybe you should talk to Barnes and see if he did something to make Tony pissed.”

“I-- uh... will do.” Steve sighed and gave in, despite the fact that he wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with Bucky, given that his last two encounters included being attacked with a knife and then being asked if he needed help with his art supplies.

 

The drive to Bucky’s was familiar, yet it felt… different. Steve could have easily jumped the back fence that separated their yards, but he figured that this wasn’t exactly the time to let down his guard, because Bucky could potentially lunge out with a knife again. So Steve parked on the roadside beside the driveway, hiking up the slight slope of the hill to the rustic brick house. Up two short steps and there he was, faced with the elegant design carved in the window, the dark mahogany door making him feel like an outsider. He wasn’t used to seeing the front of Bucky’s house, since they usually jumped the fence that separated their backyards. He felt his stomach drop with dread as he hesitated, wondering if he should knock or ring the doorbell.

Just as Steve had made his decision and was about to knock, the front door swung open and one James Buchanan Barnes slammed right into Steve.

“Mmf.” Steve got a mouthful of whatever sweatshirt Bucky was wearing, stepping back to find his friend disheveled, hair shaggy, eyes sunken, and jawline stubbly. Steve was also vaguely aware of the fact that Bucky had a duffel slung over his shoulder.

“I-- Steve?” Came the gruff voice that turned soft, “What’re you doing here?”

“I-I came to talk.”

Bucky nodded and ducked his head, kicking at the cement, before looking up at him with such gentle blue eyes that Steve was surprised that he didn’t melt on the spot.

“Come with me.” Came the low voice of his best friend, and Steve felt his heart race. Where would they be going? What did he mean by ‘come with me’? Wha-?

“You coming or not, Stevie?” Came the call, and Steve snapped out of his trance to find Bucky in the driveway next to his cranberry coloured Corolla, and Steve joined him, sliding into the shotgun position.

It was all too much. The proximity of Bucky as he leaned over to place the duffel bag in the back seat. The sudden heat Steve felt in the cool car. All of the memories they shared together surging forward like parasites--

“What did you wanna ask me about?” Came the cool question from Bucky, making all thoughts leave Steve’s brain almost as quickly as they had come.

“I wanted to ask--”

Steve felt his brain short-circuit as Bucky leaned dangerously close to his face, before grabbing his seatbelt and buckling him in. Steve felt heat rise in his cheeks, and he clamped his mouth shut, having become aware that his mouth had been hanging open like some sort of dimwit. It also took a hot minute for Steve to register that they had since pulled out of Bucky’s driveway and their neighborhood, and were headed toward the highway. 

“Buck,” Steve found the courage to speak softly, “why is Tony mad at you?”

Steve wasn’t expecting the reaction that Bucky had, which included slamming on the brakes at such an unimaginable speed that Steve’s head almost went through the front windshield. An eerie silence followed, Bucky’s mouth pulled into a tight scowl, as if it had been clamped shut and would never open again.

Bucky still did not answer as they pulled over to the shoulder lane on the side of the highway, but after several excruciatingly long minutes of dead silence, he spoke in a low voice.

“I was under the influence of whatever drugs Hydra had given me.”

Steve just blinked, when Bucky slammed his hands aggressively on the steering wheel, causing Steve to flinch.

“God, I didn’t mean-- I wish I’d never gone on that ski trip.”

Steve felt his brows furrow. “The one we went on this past winter? The one to Northstar?”

“When I fell off the ski lift into that icy ravine?” Bucky scoffed. “Yeah. The guy who helped me up was a Hydra kid-- Brock Rumlow. Said they’d need an extra hand for their lacrosse team, and that he’d seen us skiing. Thought I had decent potential. He continued speaking to me as the infirmary patched me up. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

“Buck, you’re passionate about what you do. I’d’ve done the same thing if I was in your place.”

“But you weren’t, Steve!” Bucky spit darkly, letting out a heavy sigh and running his fingers through his shabby hair. “And now I gotta pay the price after they drugged me at that one party.”

“Buck--” Steve started softly, placing a delicate, yet hesitant hand upon Bucky’s broad shoulder. The face that turned toward Steve was composed, but those navy blue eyes were broken, mirroring the true pain Bucky was masking.

“I-I didn’t mean to kill Howard and Maria Stark.”

  
  


…

  
  


Sam Wilson was not a big fan of Bucky Barnes, but here he was, defending the now ex-Hydra asshole that Steve had recently found himself crushing on. Sam and Nat had kept the whole Bucky thing on the down-low while Steve began to figure things out, so it raised suspicion when T’Challa had given them his kingly blessing and began helping Bucky out.

So now Sam sat in the passenger seat of T’Challa’s top-of-the-line Mercedes, trying not to die of embarrassment, yet also simultaneously thankful that T’challa had saved him from the continuation of Stark’s beatings. Rhodes had kinda deserved the karma that he’d been given, because Barnes and his interactions with Steve were none of his damn business.

“Mister Wilson, it has occurred to me that you are not the biggest supporter of Mister Barnes.”

Sam snorted, and T’Challa gave him a questioning look.

“You have no idea.” 

“Then do enlighten me.”

“I met Steve in middle school when we had a social studies class together, but when I first met Barnes was a week later when Steve invited me to sit with him. It was Steve, Barnes, Peggy, Pepper, and Natasha all sitting at the lunch table, and the only seat available was between the Barnes and Nat. Just as I went to sit down, the asshole pulls the chair out from under me, and the rest is history.”

“The relationship is that of love and hatred?”

“I guess? I mean, I got him back when I sat shotgun and reclined my seat until he was completely squashed…”

A small smile pulled at T’Challa’s lips, and between the burnt dandelion streetlamps and the stormy yet, cotton candy coloured sky, it gave his face a rather ethereal glow. Sam felt a grin spread across his face, just as he felt his stomach twist, causing the smile to disappear from his face. T’Challa definitely was off-limits, and Sam knew it. He couldn’t just date Wakandan royalty, especially when he’d have to go through crazy procedures. Besides, T’Challa wasn’t even into him.

A pair of dark glittering eyes watched him, he’d been well aware of for a while. Okoye, T’Challa’s personal bodyguard, was never far behind, including when T’Challa entered the brawl scene that had unfolded at the local Pizza Hut. 

“Yeah, seventh grade was when it all started… we’ve almost landed each other in the emergency room a few times.” Sam realised he was rambling, but anything to keep romantic thoughts of T’Challa out of his brain was optimal. “One Chanukah a few years ago, we were at Steve’s, and Barnes decided to rig an air horn to the back of the door handle, so that when I opened the door… Well, I got him back later, when I called him into the room and his face was priceless when he tripped over the cling wrap that I’d wrapped around the bottom of the door frame…”

“Mister Wilson,” Came the soft voice of T’Challa, and Sam immediately shut the fuck up, “What is your relationship with Mister Rogers?”

“He’s my best friend?” Sam furrowed his brows, and T’Challa took a left that led them under one of the bridges in the town. T’Challa made a ‘hmmm’ sound, and Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“Are you-- Did you think--? Steve and I aren’t dating, good lord no.  _ Never _ . He’s too busy pining after Barnes to where it physically hurts.”

“You would never date another man?”

“I never said that. Don’t twist my words. I’d never date  _ Steve _ specifically. He needs someone who he’s known for a long time and who’s been with him through everything--”

“And is that not you, Mister Wilson?”

“I-- I was there with him through… when we lost Peggy. I didn’t know he’d lost his mother until a year after I’d met him. I wasn’t there to help him through that difficult time.”

T’Challa let out another ‘hmmm’, before falling silent. Sam turned to look out the window, making eye contact with Okoye. He looked at her, praying she could read all of the questions plastering his face, but either she didn’t notice, or didn’t care to answer those questions for him. Either way, Sam felt more confused than comforted by this encounter.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all it's been a hot minute but with college, personal writing projects, + starting another fic (like the dumbass I am why do I do this to myself), I obviously haven't paid attention to updating this work. For almost two months.  
> ... Sorry?
> 
> xoxo


	11. (In That Moment He Knew-- He Fucked Up)

Steve felt his heart sink. Pepper had told him about Tony’s parents being killed back when he’d been at Tony’s house. He’d known Howard Stark, because he’d helped created a steroid that he’d given to Steve to try, which had helped Steve build his muscle. Now upon learning that Howard’s death was at the hands of Bucky, he didn’t know how to feel.

“You were under the influence, Buck.”

“But I still remember it. I watched them die, before taking their steroids from the back of the car and handing them to one of the Hydra guys that had been sitting in the passenger seat. No one called the cops. That’s why T’Challa had it out for me-- his father died recently, and he thought I was the one who did it, even though it wasn’t me. It was some other kid.”

“You still couldn’t help it.”

“I can’t sleep at night, because every time I close my eyes, I see them bleeding out and crying for help. I can’t live with what I’ve done to them, and Stark knows. He knows I killed them, and he’s coming for you because he thinks you knew about it too.”

“It’s going to be fine. We can just--”

Bucky slammed the door of the car, and Steve stepped out as well, following him as he trudged through the pounding rain in the shoulder lane. Steve jogged to catch up, barely catching sight of Bucky’s face as a result of the shadows cast upon his face from the streetlight. It took a mere seconds for the both of them to become soaked to the bone, facing each other, with nothing but the rumble of thunder and the aggressive, echoing onslaught of rain to break the silence between them. Steve gently placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but he recoiled, as if Steve had hit him. Steve took a step back toward Bucky, grabbing his sweatshirt and balling it up in his fists, trying to make him stay.

“Buck, this will come to pass. You didn’t mean to. Hydra drugged you and held you against your will, and if Tony can’t see that, then he can mind his own business, or he’ll be dealing with me.”

“Steve, I-- I can’t get you roped into this. If they somehow drug me again--”

“I won’t let that happen, and neither will Sam, Nat, and--”

Bucky pushed him away roughly, but stumbled slightly with Steve, because his hands balled into fists were still holding onto his sweatshirt for dear life. Steve could see the scowl settle back upon his best friend’s lips, and Steve was all the more determined to convince Bucky that things were going to work themselves out.

“You aren’t going to hurt me or anyone else, Buck. I--”

“Do you know how much it hurt to watch my best friend fend me off with some sort of dinner platter like I was a monster? I saw the fear in your eyes as I watched myself attack you, Steve. I don’t want to risk seeing that ever again.”

Bucky attempted to rid himself of Steve’s grip, making Steve all the more infuriated. He jerked on Bucky’s sweatshirt, making his friend stumble minimally as he was pulled closer, still obviously not used to the fact that Steve had actual strength. Bucky’s face was too close for Steve’s liking, allowing him to see the storm clouds reflecting in Bucky’s normally blue eyes, making them more of a deep grey-blue, like that of a turbulent sea during a storm. He could see the mauve bags of exhaustion upon Bucky’s face, along with the stubble and shadow on his jaw  to match the rough, sleep deprived look. Steve felt fury corse through his veins at the fact that Hydra had broken his best friend, scared him to hell and back, and now, Bucky felt as though it was his fault. Bucky was the victim of the hazing scheme, and it pissed Steve off to think that Tony was blaming Bucky for something that Bucky obviously had no control over. Steve felt his mouth curve into a frown, before evolving into a scowl that deepened as he realised that Bucky would continue to blame himself and live in fear of hurting more people, despite the fact that he was safe, and that Steve would move heaven and earth to make sure that no one from Hydra so much as came near Bucky again. It made Steve so infuriated that he had to do something.

So he smashed Bucky’s face. With his face.

To make things more clear: Steve aggressively pulled Bucky by the sweatshirt and kissed him.

It wasn't like some sort of stereotypical movie scene with the rain and a sweet, passionate kiss. The two were soaked to the bone, lips smashed and teeth clashed, noses bumping and on top of it all, they were probably transferring germs and potentially pneumonia.

So romantic.

And it took a hot moment to realise that Bucky wasn’t kissing him back.

Upon the realisation that Steve fucked up real bad, he tore himself away from Bucky, horrified. He took two steps back and swallowed hard, eyes scanning his best friend’s blank face. Nothing. Steve didn’t know how long they were standing there, but a call of his name startled him out of his trance. He glanced back to find Sam leaning out of the passenger side of a car about ten feet behind him. He took another two steps back, before turning and making his way relatively quickly to the back seat of the car and slamming the door. The car set in motion, and Steve watched from the window as they passed by Bucky, who was still frozen to the spot, and now fading into the distance as they picked up speed.

“Captain Rogers.” Came the soft voice of T’Challa, which Steve found rather comforting.

Steve took in the fact that T’Challa was driving, Sam was sitting shotgun, and one of T’Challa’s bodyguards was sitting in the seat next to him. Steve was also made aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, and he clicked it into place, remembering when Bucky’s face had been so close to his when he’s been buckled in earlier…

“Captain Rogers,” T’Challa’s voice came again, and Steve’s head shot up.

“Yes, your Highness?”

“I will drop you at Mister Wilson’s house with him, as I am sure you both have much to cover. I also believe Okoye would rather not make another trip and extend the already dragged out window of tolerability to others.”

“You missed an important debriefing that began almost fifteen minutes ago, my king. If you wish to not alert the high court that there is potential trouble you have fallen into, then I suggest you drive faster. Otherwise, you missed the initial start of the meeting to acquire Mister Wilson from the Pizza Hut, which I highly discouraged, but you proceeded to ignore me.”

“Okoye, I am strengthening bonds with those who could be of potential help to Wakanda as we continue to open our doors to the rest of the world.”

Steve watched as Okoye’s face twitched in displeasure, before muttering, “Bitch.”

Steve could swear that he saw a smile of satisfaction twitch across T’Challa’s lips as his eyes crinkled warmly in the rearview mirror. The Wakandan royal then glanced toward Sam, before pulling around the roundabout.

“Did you know, Captain, that Sam would never engage with you romantically?”

Steve sputtered, and Sam whipped his head toward the driver, eyes large in disbelief.

“ _ Dude-- _ ”

“I can assure you, that’s true.” Steve shrugged, and Sam let out a sigh (whether it was in defeat or exasperation, Steve would never know).

T’Challa let out a ‘hmmm’ as they pulled into Sam’s neighborhood, and right up his driveway to his house.

“Wait, how did you know where I--?”

“It is imperative that the king knows the locations of the homes of his… associates.” Okoye responded to Sam’s confused and shocked expression, and Steve noticed the hesitation before ‘associates’. It was like she knew that Sam was attracted to T’Challa… but T’Challa either didn’t seem to notice the hesitation, or didn’t care. He shook Sam’s hand, before shaking Steve’s.

“If you are ever in need of any assistance, I will do my best to respond if you so call upon me.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” Steve then gave Okoye a small smile. “We’ll do our best to leave you out of our troubles.”

Okoye gave him a knowing look, before he exited the car and closed to door, standing next to Sam in the driveway as Okoye took his place in shotgun. Sam gave him a playful glare, and Steve threw his hands up in surrender. 

“I had to say something, or I’d ruin your chances with him!” Steve spoke rather loudly, just as T’Challa pulled out of the driveway, and Sam lunged to throw a hand over Steve’s mouth.

“What chance, Steve? He probably heard you!”

And if Okoye wasn’t mentally facepalming from where she sat next to an oblivious T’Challa, then she’d be damned if she didn’t get Shuri in on assisting the two impaired idiots that were pining for each other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Captain Marvel costume is supposed to be here in the post tomorrow I'm so excited.
> 
> \+ yes, this is a hint that I will be dropping a solo Samchalla fic (eventually), because I'm tired of it being just a B plot to Stucky without actually having its own fic. it happens more often than you think.


	12. (Civilities + Unexpected Visit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, I know it's been a while, but here I am with another chapter in this story! I know I entailed a Samchalla spin-off from this universe, + I intend on starting that soon, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested.

Steve avoided both Bucky and Stark like the plague for the next few days. At lunch, Steve would lurk in the art room, where both Sam and Nat came once they caught on (which took them only ten minutes the first day). Steve was focused on his painting that was due next week-- the same week as midterms and finals-- before being let out for the holiday break. The art room was Steve’s safety, and he often found himself staying after school to finish projects or to just have some quiet time to think, but with the midterms, he was beginning to use it more and more often. That was, until T’Challa pulled him out.

It was day four of avoiding both Bucky and Stark, and Steve had been using his one free period this week to try and study for macroeconomics. He’d been pacing the art room, notebook in hand with scrawled international trade graphs, when he caught sight of T’Challa sitting upon one of the metal art tables, legs crossed and watching him.

“You seem to be under a great deal of stress, Captain.”

“Yeah… Macro midterm is next week, and these stupid foreign exchange graphs and the bank balancing sheets--”

“I can help. Come, my notes are in the library.”

T’Challa gracefully slid off the table, and Steve grabbed his things, before finding himself following the Wakandan royal upstairs to the library. The king wove through the book shelves to one of the back corners, where his bag was placed upon the back of a chair, and his notes were neatly highlighted and organised upon the table. Steve sat across from T’Challa, opening his notes as his fellow classmate began explaining foreign exchange. As he put it, the foreign exchange graphs worked inversely to one another, indicating an oversupply of money in one country, and an increased demand of money in the other. His fingers would point to shifts in the graphs as he detailed causations of said shifts, Steve nodding as he spoke.

“So it’s essentially a trade off. Dump your money into the market in favour of another currency in order to buy their goods.” Steve summed, up, and T’Challa gave a small nod.

“Exactly. Now, bank balancing sheets are where one must make sacrifices, whether you are the consumer or the bank, which-” T’Challa glanced up, voice trailing off as he sat up, stiffening. Steve turned his head to find Tony Stark, jaw set, making his way toward their table. Upon reaching them, Stark slammed his hands down, causing Steve to flinch, while T’Challa just raised a brow, completely unphased.

“I cannot believe you’re harbouring a murderer, Rogers.” He seethed, and T’Challa glared at him.

“And I cannot believe you stole Wakandan technology and passed it off as your own. If you would, Mister Stark, we are preparing for the macroeconomics midterm.” T’Challa motioned for him to leave, but Stark scowled and held his ground.

“No, he’s coming with me to discuss his stupid fucking actions--”

“Language.” Steve hissed quietly, hyper aware of Tony’s volume level that would likely draw attention.

“You know what? You just had the  _ audacity _ to ‘shush’ me, and I--”

“Fine. Let's take this outside, then.” Steve glared, a scowl forming on his face as he pushed past Stark and exited the library. The moment the doors shut, the yelling began.

“He killed my parents!”

“He was under the influence of whatever drugs Hydra pumped into him.”

“He’s deserving of jail time.”

“So is the rest of Hydra for hazing and continually endangering lives, as well as property damage.”

“I cannot believe you’re siding with a murderer!”

“He’s my friend.”

“So was I.” Tony narrowed his brows and lunged at Steve, who sidestepped the attack.

Even as Tony continued to throw fists, Steve did not attack. He tried to keep Tony at bay without harming him, but after being given a hell of a right hook, Steve began to reconsider. There was likely no way to end this without fighting back, as it seemed Tony was in a blind rage, seeking blood to help cope.

“Captain.”

Steve turned to find T’Challa, who tossed him something. Upon catching the item, he found that it had been the party platter with the star upon it- the same one that he’d used to fend Bucky off with at the Hydra party. He instantly took the make-shift shield and began defending himself from Tony’s aggressive attacks. Steve even took the opportunity to push Stark back against the far wall and pin him there, like a butterfly to a cork board.

“You’re making a mistake, Rogers.”

“Maybe I am, but he’s my best friend, and I’m with him ‘til the end of the line..”

Steve let go and took a step back, letting down his guard for a moment. Just as Tony was about to strike, the macroeconomics teacher approached, the frown upon his face evident. He pulled Tony aside, who glared at Steve as he was led down the hall, presumably to the office of one of the administrators. Steve and T’Challa reentered the library, heading back to their corner to collect their items.

“Everyone who is in affiliation with Tony Stark will come for you, Captain.”

“Let them come, then. I will not hesitate to educate them on the reality of the situation at hand. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault, and I won’t have people treating him like he’s to blame.”

“You seem willing to take on the trials and tribulations coming your way, Captain. I’ll leave you to it.”

T’Challa and Steve parted ways just as the bell rang. Throngs of students flooded the halls, reminding him more of a hive of bees buzzing with activity, rather than a high school. Steve found himself frozen in the centre of the hall, the swarm of people parting around him. Down the hall, frozen in the exact same fashion was one James Buchanan Barnes. It was like an old wild wild west standoff, but without the eerie music and the guns.

Steve looked away first, moving into one of the streams of people moving down the hall away from Bucky, and so he turned, not even bothering to glance back.

 

The end of the school day came, and Steve gathered his things from the art room. The canvas and his paints now safely intact in his hands, he began heading out to his car, wandering the now empty halls. His footsteps echoed against the tile flooring, and as he went to readjust the bulky canvas in his hands, his pace faltered, making him aware of someone approaching. He figured it was one of the faculty members, and continued on his way, taking a side door that led to where he had parked his car by the tennis courts. Even as he continued, the footsteps weren’t far behind, crunching as he traipsed across the gravel lot to his car. Steve shook off his nervousness, opening the backseat doors and gently placing his canvas behind the driver’s seat. He tossed the rest of his items haphazardly in, before slamming the door and turning to make his way to the driver’s side, when he found someone standing eerily close to him. He flinched slightly, making eye contact with Bucky, whose arm was placed on the roof of his car as he leaned on it casually.

“Hey Steve.”

“Hey, Buck I-- what’s up?” Steve mentally facepalmed himself for his lack of communication skills, especially after having specifically gone out of his way to avoid Bucky for almost five days.

“Nothin’, really…” He trailed off, eyes trained on Steve rather intensely. “About the other day--”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve brushed him off, trying to think of anything other than the mistake he’d made. “You were upset, and it wasn’t my place to be pushing the boundaries.”

“I-- What?”

“It wasn’t my place to pry, and I--”

“Steve, what are you talking about?” Bucky looked bewildered, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m saying that I know you would have come and told me when you felt like you were able to.”

“I wasn’t going to--”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have given you some space, like you did for me when mom died.” He felt his voice become more hollow, before shaking his head slightly. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Giving you space…”

Alright, it wasn’t entirely a lie. Steve still felt uncomfortable for assaulting his best friend during a crisis with his lips, but that was a whole other nut to crack. But Bucky just stared at him, confusion clearly written across his face.

“Steve, I wasn’t talking about that.” 

Steve’s heart lurched in his chest, and felt his breathing hitch. His brain went blank, and he felt his mouth go dry. His mouth moved to say something, but no words came out.

“You… don’t actually  _ like _ me like that, do you?” Was the accusatory tone that came out, and Steve felt his heart sink even further as he kept reminding himself that  _ Bucky isn’t gay _ .

Steve just shook his head, holding his hands up as if claiming his innocence. Bucky backed away from the car, and Steve opened the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, and slamming the door shut. He wanted to badly to beat his head against the steering wheel out of the fact that he was an idiot, and he very well would have if Bucky weren’t still standing rather close to his car.

 

Upon arriving home, Steve felt the nervous energy from the Bucky encounter eating him alive. He jogged around the neighborhood to clear his mind, which didn’t work so well. He ended up in his backyard pacing as he called Sam.

“Why am I gay?” Was the first thing that Steve blurted out into the receiver, and Sam hesitated for a moment.

“Because that’s just how you were made. It’s not a bad thing, and if anyone else says otherwise, Nat and I will--”

“I just… I don’t know. I kissed Buck the other day before you and T’Challa picked me up, and--”

“...Aight that justifies your recent behaviour, but go on.” Sam commented, and Steve detailed the whole event, before discussing the run-in he’d had with Bucky earlier.

“--He said it in a derogatory tone, so I just thought… Maybe… he thinks that being gay is unnatural.”

“Well, fuck him. You’re just being yourself, and that’s how you were made. If he has a problem with that, then I don’t think you should continue to allow that kind of person into your life.” Came the voice of Natasha, and Steve realized that of course she’d be there with Sam.

“Yeah…” Steve sighed, thinking about if Bucky was homophobic, then there would be a gaping hole in his life where Buck had once been.

“You should just tell him that you’re into him. Be honest. If he can’t accept you for who you are, then it’s his loss.”

“Sam, I can’t just tell him something like that, especially seeing how the other night went.”

“You owe him an explanation.”

“I think my actions were explanation enough.”

“Steve, you’re gonna have to face him one way or another. You’re gonna run into each other sometime, and things might be made worse if you don’t find closure with yourself.” Natasha spoke calmly, and kept her voice level, and Steve almost felt sure with the idea, but his own internal turmoil got the better of him.

“What am I gonna say, Nat? ‘I think I’ve been falling for you’?!” Steve realised that he was yelling, but at this point, he didn’t care. “Is that what I should say? Or better yet, ‘I’m romantically interested in you Buck, and I have for a long time, but I just figured it out now’?!”

“Uh… Steve?”

Steve froze as he turned to see Bucky propped up on the fence that separated their backyards. His heart missed a few beats, before sinking to the newly-formed knots in his stomach. He took two steps back and turned, before finding shelter on the far end of his backyard under the deck. He sat on the bench swing, watching as Bucky disappeared from where he’d perched himself on the fence.

“He heard you?” Came Nat’s voice, and Steve could almost see the smirk on her lips. “We’ll check in later.”

“Make good choices!” Sam yelled from the background, and the line went dead.

Steve pushed himself back and forth on the swing nervously. It creaked with his every move. Bucky was likely going to come over. Anxiety twisted the knots in his stomach. He felt nauseated. He got off the swing slowly, so as to not disturb the knots in his stomach. He walked up the steps to the fenced in patio and entered the sliding door in through the kitchen. He traipsed up the stairs to his room, closing the door and lowering the blinds, before crawling into bed and attempting to calm his racing heart. It was of no avail. So Steve sat, wallowing in misery at the impending doom, while simultaneously jittery because his anxiety had gone into overdrive. It didn’t take long for the opposing forces to completely exhaust Steve, and he fell asleep before the sun had even set.

  
  



	13. (Forward)

Despite wanting to skip, Steve forced himself out of bed and into his routine. He arrived an hour before the first bell like he usually did, slipping his almost finished painting into the open art room. He was heading down the hall to the stairwell to see if T’Challa was in the library to study, when he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He pretended to ignore Bucky, turning up the music in his earbuds louder, almost to the point where he was feeling the beginnings of a headache blossoming at the back of his head. Bucky, however, did not stop calling his name until Steve felt a hand press to his shoulder. He froze, pausing his music and pulling his earbuds out of his ears his heart was slamming against his rib cage, and nausea quickly settled over him.

“I-- Hey.” Steve managed to mumble, and Bucky’s face seemed to be filled with several fleeting emotions.

“When I asked you if you liked me in that sort of way… “ Bucky recollected himself, sounding more desperate than angry, which was the opposite of what Steve thought his reaction would be. “Why did you lie to me, Steve?”

Steve didn’t answer. He placed an earbud back in his ear and attempted to walk up the stairs, but Bucky grabbed his arm.

“Why did you lie?” Bucky’s voice echoed slightly in the stairwell, and Steve gave him a hard look.

“Because you seem to have a problem with it, that’s why.”

“I have a…?” Bucky furrowed his brows and let out a scoff. “Steve, you’re  _ joking _ right?”

It was Steve’s turn to wrinkle his brows in confusion. Bucky let out a sigh, and threw his hands up in desperation.

“That’s why I invited you and only you to the summer vacation trips. Why I never actually dated girls. Even-- fuck-- even Peggy knew!” Bucky ran his hands through his hair in a distressed manor.

“Then why did you make it sound like such a problem that I’m… interested in men just as much as women?”

“Because you’re  _ you _ ! You’re this fantastic, amazing goody-two shoes who has a future that could look like the American Dream. T-The white picket fence and the wife and the kids-- the whole thing! You’re supposed to be… unobtainable.” Bucky finished lamely, and sighed heavily.

Steve could almost understand where he was coming from. Bucky was this long hoped-for romantic endeavor that Steve believed would never happen because his best friend was straight. Upon the newfound realisation that Bucky was, in fact, not straight, it was almost a sort of let down. It was like he was hoping for more of a doomed future of unrequited affection,  like one of those crappy daytime soaps that his mother would have occasionally watched. Maybe he was expecting the worst, and was underwhelmed by the fact that things were actually going his way for once.

Either way, here he was. Standing in the stairwell with his best friend, and seeing eye-to-eye for the first time in probably ever. Steve had finally unlocked a part of himself he hadn’t known he’d buried, and Bucky had finally come to terms with the fact that he did have a rough past few months, but that he could finally feel free to be himself. It was like the memories they shared became brighter, and their love for each other-- whether familial, friendly, or romantically-- could allow them to pull through the tough times. It was a new step in the right direction, and no one-- not Tony or Rumlow or Hydra-- could hinder their continued journey forward.

Steve felt a small smile pull at his lips, and he placed a supportive hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Wherever this goes… just know that I’m with you  _ ‘til the end of the line _ .”

  
  
  



	14. Epilogue

 

Snow melted into water for the brown grass, breathing life into the spring. Spring’s cool, wet days evaporated into mist by March. Finals were finished, and only the impending graduation was left as summer began. Already upward of eighty degrees, the next few months promised to be sweltering. The heat and anticipation was built up in the small stadium, making the upcoming graduates antsy at their practice ceremony and almost forgetting the fact that they had to be there from seven in the morning to two in the afternoon.

Being organised by last name, Steve was sat next to Natasha in the long, narrow corridor that wove as underground entrances to the stadium. On Steve’s other side was Peter Quill, whom Steve knew was the head of the video game club at their school, but didn’t know him all that well. They made idle chatter, Quill enthusiastically bringing up _Footloose_ , before talking to the kid who sat across from them in the cramped corridor.

(“ _Footloose?_ What’s that?”

“That, my friend is the best movie known to man. Let me tell you… What’s your name?”

“People just call me ‘Korg’.”

“Right. Korg, buddy, let me tell you--”)

Steve had taken his cue to dip out of the conversation, and felt a hand rest upon his shoulder. Natasha’s dark eyes watched him with an emotion unknown. She moved to gently touch his cheek, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Things may be changing, but you worry too much, _daragoj_. Everything will work out, for better or worse, and we’re along for the ride.”

She patted his cheek and he could only nod.

 

Two days later, the graduating class of S.H.I.E.L.D received their diplomas. The graduation caps were thrown as parents and friends flooded through the exits and into the sunshine, where chatter and cheers and sighs of relief were shared through easy smiles. Steve could only watch families reunite, feeling bittersweet as he realised that this was it. He was starting a new chapter of his life, and most of these people he’d never see again. Before he could continue his spiralling thoughts, there came a yell.

“Steve!”

Just as he turned, Bucky practically jumped on top of him. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, only to break apart moments later to a loud groan.

“C’mon, man! Keep it PG for a damn minute!” Came the teasing voice of Sam, and Natasha approached, gently touching his shoulder.

“You are a hypocrite, _lastachka_. If your mother wasn’t here, you’d be the same way with your prince.”

Sam ducked his head in shame, and Bucky took the opportunity to poke fun at him. Steve watched the banter with great joy, the grin never leaving his face and Bucky’s arm wrapped behind his back. He never thought he could be happier, even if they were parting ways. Bucky glanced between them, before his eyes rested on Steve after the banter died down, his lips curling into a smile as his eyes sparkled.

“So… what next?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've stayed with me this long, thanks for reading! 
> 
> also keep an eye out because I'm going to be writing a spinoff samchalla fic set in this universe (because samchalla needs more works of its own, rather than just being a b plot to stucky)


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